


we will never return to closing doors

by sadonsundays



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Peter Parker, Confusion, Distant Tony, M/M, No underage, PTSD, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Single Tony, college peter parker, fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 03:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17859083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadonsundays/pseuds/sadonsundays
Summary: He fantasizes about Tony constantly.His therapist would probably call it an unhealthy coping mechanism.Peter calls it getting through the day.





	we will never return to closing doors

**Author's Note:**

> title from "warning call" by chvrches

He sits across from Tony. It’s dark and rainy outside, much like the mood Peter can feel coming on.

“I just don’t understand why you decided on a school with a mediocre S&T program.”

Peter frowns at him. “Are you...ashamed? Of my decision?”

Tony throws down a pen he was twirling between his fingers, getting out of his desk chair that probably cost 2 or 3 month’s worth rent for Peter and May. 

He turns his back to Peter, gazing outside. “Did I say that?”

“Well, no. But mediocre is a bit harsh.”

Tony turns around, eyes alight. “I’m sorry Peter, but it’s true. If you’re so keen on staying in the city then at least go with Columbia. Say the word and I’ll have my secretary make the call.”

Peter blushes as he mutters, “NYU is cheaper.”

Tony comes around the desk so fast Peter’s spidey senses just barely catch his movements. He kneels on the ground, crouching directly in front of him. 

“What are you talking about? I’m taking care of it, remember?” He places his hands on Peter’s knees and Peter wants to die. His voice is so smooth. And he looks so good, dressed head to toe in a custom black suit. Peter inhales and catches the scent of pine—fresh—like Tony had it directly imported from the nearest mountaintop. 

Peter nudges his knees together, desperate not to get aroused in this situation. His senses are overwhelmed. “Mr. Stark, what? You—you can’t, that’s—“

Tony presses a finger gently to his lips, silencing him. “I’m so sorry, Pete. Ever since the breakup my head’s been a mess. I didn’t even realize that you’d fully decided on a college. That’s why I asked you here today. So we could catch up.”

“Nice of you to see me,” Peter grumbles before he can stop himself. 

Tony basically hasn’t directly acknowledged Peter’s existence for over 7 months, the last time being Christmas Eve when he stopped by unexpectedly to pay Peter and May a visit before flying out to LA with Pepper. 

“Merry Christmas to my favorite Queens natives,” he said, dropping two quaint bags with bows on the kitchen table. “Don’t open those until after I leave, just something small.”

If visa gift cards for $1,000 each could be considered something small.

Since then it’s been radio silence. Peter tried numerous times to communicate with him but could never get past Happy. It was frustrating. Annoying. Upsetting. 

Peter had grown incredibly close to Tony in the aftermath following the Coney Island incident. Then Titan happened. 

And Tony pulled away. Completely. 

Peter knows he tends to attach himself to people quickly, but he couldn’t help getting so hopeful. Mr. Stark practically hung the moon as far as he was concerned. And they were the only two who really remembered what happened on Titan as the sun set and Peter—

“I know. I’m so sorry,” Tony says softly, squeezing Peter’s knee and bringing him out of the dark place he was about to fall into. 

“I’ve been awful, and I know that.”

“Mr. Stark—“ his voice cracks and Tony interrupts him, standing up and moving back.

“If money is the only matter—“

Peter tries again to bring the conversation back to Tony’s guilt—wanting to protest—but Mr. Stark raises a hand.

He continues, “If money is the only matter, I’ll have Stephanie call Columbia today and get your transcripts, test scores—everything—moved over.”

“And I’ll call financial assistance myself,” he concludes, picking up his moleskin and writing something down in it. 

Peter’s breathing nearly stops. He’d gone from zero interaction, no acknowledgment in ages and now—

“Are you hungry? How about some food? I don’t think it’s the best idea for you to go out in that right now.”

He points behind himself, and Peter notices how much darker it’s gotten. 

“Yes, I’m always hungry. But, Mr. Stark—I don’t know what to say. You doing this—“

Tony looks at him, head tilted and eyebrows raised. “Just say thank you.”

Peter wants to say more than that—so much more. There’s a heavy stone in the pit of his stomach and his therapist says the only way to break it apart and not feel so weighted is to talk about it. 

But he doesn’t. 

He doesn’t argue, he doesn’t protest, he doesn’t bring the conversation back to where he wants it. 

All he says is, “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much.”

And by noon the next day, he’s a student at Columbia University. 

\\\

After that day, Tony’s better about checking in.

It’s usually just a quick text every other week but it means a lot to Peter. He’s finally not feeling so worthless and alone. 

They never talk about Titan. 

And they never see each other. 

Peter reads in the tabloids that Tony’s sleeping around again. He’s pictured with a new Victoria’s Secret angel a few times a month. Peter assumes it’s some sort of payback towards Pepper but he himself can’t quite help feeling a little hurt as well. 

He told Tony about his crush on him. Before Thanos. 

Peter grew up an introvert so talking about his emotions was never a personal strength. But Tony challenged him, made him want to be more open—more honest. 

His infatuation confession came out when he did—over dinner.

It was a rare summer night where it was just the two of them, May working overnight and Pepper on a jet down to DC. Peter and Tony were sitting on the balcony when Tony asked if he was seeing anyone. 

“Um...no, actually.” Peter blushed. 

Tony scoffed. “Really? I find that surprising.”

Peter felt like he was going to throw up as he whispered his next words. “There is someone I like though...”

Tony laughed, delighted. “Oh? Do I know this girl?”

“Guy,” Peter instantly corrected him.

Tony raised his glass with a wide smile, not even phased. “Do I know this guy?”

Peter’s anxiety kept him from playing along, and in a move that purely dripped with sensuality, he blurted, “It’s you! I like you—so much...um I’m sorry?...I’m just gonna go—“

His face burned and he looked everywhere but at Tony as he stood to leave. But just before he reached the patio door he felt a hand wrap around his bicep—grip firm and unyielding. 

“Like hell I’m letting you walk out of here after that. Come back, Peter.”

He spent the next half hour half laughing, half crying in Tony’s arms. The pain of growing up and realizing he was going to be different—it ached.

And Tony comforted him while he talked through it—made him feel safe and like he belonged. Never once judging him for liking men or making an awkward situation worse by reminding Peter that his feelings weren’t reciprocated. 

It was one of the best nights of Peter’s life. 

Then the world changed forever. 

And so did they.

There’s a lot Peter wants to talk about but he doesn’t know how to say any of it. 

He carries on even though it hurts. 

And what’s worse is that now that Peter and Tony are seemingly back on track—or headed in that direction—Peter lets his guard down—allows all the fantasies to creep back into his head.

They’re extensive, they’re abundant, they’re obscene.

He day dreams about Tony touching him, kissing him, fucking him—constantly. 

Sometimes he thinks about Tony’s arms around him. Like when they were on the moon. But he won’t think about how it actually happened. He’ll think about them naked—panting—instead.

His therapist would probably call it an unhealthy coping mechanism. 

Peter calls it getting through the day. 

He can’t stop the thoughts. 

They come when he’s bored in class, when he’s riding the subway, when he’s swinging from building to building on night patrol. 

When he’s walking in the park, when he’s attempting homework, when he’s half naked under his covers—stripping his cock raw. 

Like now. 

He’s in his bed, done with class for the day. He‘s aching in his hand as he fucks into it— gasping like he’s hurt. 

“I—I can’t, please—“ he shakes and shudders in his twin bed, curling his toes into the cheap cotton sheets. One of his favorite fantasies is where Tony finds him at the compound, lonely and confused and aching to come yet not not being able to on his own. 

He’d sneak up on Peter in the dark, admonishing him for touching himself. 

“You’re here to work, not play.”

Peter would stutter out a shaky apology, lifting his knees, spreading his legs—

Tony would settle between them, open him up with his fingers and his mouth—have his way with him. 

Peter thinks about sucking Tony’s fingers in mouth, thinks about Tony pulling his hair. But mostly he thinks about taking Tony bare, no boundary between them. 

And that’s what makes him come.

He pants heavily as he stares down at his chest, damp with sweat and semen. 

He closes his eyes, lets his mind drift upstate, just for a few more moments. 

Peter’s bedroom is in the same wing as Tony’s at the compound. Not that Peter ever gets to go there. The deal on the table, with both SHIELD and the Avengers, is that Peter obtain a college degree first then fight major crime after.

He’d been mad as hell about it in the beginning, wondering why he’d have to take the same path as a civilian. He went to confront Tony at his new city apartment the night of the announcement. He was certain the decision was his. 

But Tony wasn’t there. He was across the world, somewhere in East Asia. 

Nick Fury himself told Peter after Peter showed up. 

He nearly peed his pants. 

Fury explained since Peter had suffered significant PTSD after Titan, that college would be a nice change of pace.

“Listen Parker,” Fury stressed, “if you absolutely hate it after the first year, we’ll talk again. Alright?”

“O-kay,” Peter squeaked in awe. He’d never seen Fury in person before that point.

So Peter understood the situation. What he didn’t understand is why Tony didn’t tell him. 

He gets up out of bed, somewhat disgusted with himself. Tony went through just as much as he did, if not more—the least Peter can do is give him space and not be a pest about it. 

He should be glad Tony’s even talking to him at all. 

\\\

To his delighted surprised, Tony shows up on campus one day completely out of the blue. 

“I’m taking you to dinner, since you’re always hungry.”

Peter laughs, unable to argue.

They settle on an old fashioned Italian place a few blocks away from the library. There’s candles on the tables, Rocco Granata on the speakers, and red and white table-mats. It’s cozy and adorable and Peter wistfully wishes they were on a date. 

Tony’s wearing a black baseball cap and completely tinted out shades. He leaves both on as they sit down. 

“Not suspicious at all,” Peter comments. 

“And when did you get so sassy?”

Peter smirks, not answering. 

They order some cokes and a couple of traditional dishes. Spaghetti and meat balls for Peter, three cheese lasagne for Tony. 

“And we’ll start with an order of cheesy garlic bread please,” Tony adds.

“You got it,” their waitress replies, winking as she walks away. 

A silence falls between them. Peter doesn’t do what he’d normally always do and fill it. Instead, he looks at Tony, waiting. 

“What?” 

“Why are you here?” Peter’s been dying to ask but it took the entire walk over to work up the courage. 

Tony scoffs. “What? I can’t just stop in to see my favorite avenger?”

Peter physically bristles. “I’m not technically an avenger right now. You know that.”

Tony scoots his chair in, coming closer and resting his arms on the table. “You’re right. And I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

Peter frowns. “What?”

Tony takes his sunglasses off, and for the first time Peter can literally see how little he’s been sleeping. There’s dark circles under his eyes, and the skin around them looks like a little sunken. Peter’s alarmed immediately. 

“Mr. Stark—you, you haven’t been—“

Tony waves him off, a look of relief washing over him when their waitress sets down their caffeinated beverages. 

“I’m sure you’ve read in the papers that I’m a mess. But now you get to see for yourself. Charming, right?”

Peter doesn’t know what to say so he sticks to his plan of not saying anything. Tony came to him, Tony can do the talking. 

He sighs deeply. “Oh kid, I’m sorry. I’m sorry to show up like this. I’m just trying to be better to you.”

He continues, “I know you’re upset about college. I know you don’t want this path for yourself. But Peter please—try to understand. You have the rest of your life to be a hero. You only have one chance to be a kid.”

Peter looks out the window. It’s a beautiful fall day— the kind where every inhale feels like a new breath of life—the air is that crisp and clean. It’s also the first day this week there isn’t a single cloud in the sky. Peter thinks, somewhat hysterically, that Tony must have brought the sunshine. 

He can feel a defensive reply on the tip of his tongue but all he ever wants to know is what’s on Tony’s mind. 

He decides to cut the man some slack. 

“You’re right, Mr. Stark.”

Tony’s eyes widen. “That’s it? No attitude? No sass? No public, dramatic declaration stating you’re no longer a kid?”

Peter smirks. “Well, I might that say that. But we already know I’m a man now. Though only one of us is in denial about it.”

He gets up, winking at the now slack-jawed Tony, and makes his way back towards the bathroom.

Outside, he’s cool as a cucumber.

Inside, he’s freaking the fuck out. 

Where on earth did that even come from? What’s he talking about? Did he just blatantly hit on Tony? In public? In real life?

He walks over to the sink, needing something cool to soothe the heated skin under his collar. 

It’s like he’s been injected with adrenaline. The rush, the power—the high he’s experiencing is similar to when he’s fighting crime. He feels good. 

He catches himself in the mirror and he looks good as well. 

When he gets back to their table his food is steaming, waiting patiently for him. 

“Ah I love when that happens.”

Tony still has the most bewildered look on his face. “When what happens?”

Peter twirls his fork into the noodles, inhaling deeply. “When you go to the bathroom and come back to your food.”

Recognition dawns on Tony’s face and he visibly relaxes, though only minimally. 

“You’re right on that one, kid. I mean—“

He clears his throat, lowering his voice. 

“You’re right on that one, man.”

Peter rolls his eyes, laughing. 

They spend the rest of the meal catching up on non-controversial topics. It’s dark by the time they leave the restaurant and when Tony’s fingers briefly brush against his outside his dorm room, Peter’s heart blooms. 

Tony’s single now. His brain won’t let him forget. 

“I want to see you again,” Peter quietly admits, unable to stop himself. 

Tony’s smile is soft. “I’m going to be around more often.”

Peter looks up, noticing they’re under an archway. 

“This seems like a date. Pretty romantic, wouldn’t you say?”

Tony playfully pokes him in his abs, scolding him. “I’m an old man. You don’t want any part of this.”

Peter giggles, leaning back into the wall. He licks his lips, not at all shy. He’s high off being around Tony—drinks in his aura. 

“Don’t I, though?”

His shoulder blade digs into the brick behind him but he refuses to move and walk away. 

Tony rubs his hands together, swaying just the smallest inch forward. 

Peter moves his upper body, leaning towards the energy, the heat of Tony’s body. He’s even so bold as to bring their faces closer together though to remain not touching. 

“What’re you doing?” Tony whispers, warm breath fanning over Peter’s skin. 

“Shooting my shot, I guess,” he mutters, confidence quickly dissolving. 

Tony leans in and Peter closes his eyes, bracing for impact. 

A sweet, brief peck lands on his cheekbone. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Parker.”

\\\

The fantasies increase from once a day to multiple times a day after that. 

Whatever that even was. 

But school is difficult and Peter does want to impress Tony—show him he’s not just wasting his money. 

So he tries to spend more time in public, studying, rather than in the safety and privacy of his bedroom. Anything can set him off there.

Like the other night he was in bed, actually preparing to just sleep, when he stretched and arched his back. The release of tension allowed a downright illegal moan to escape and just like that—he’d fallen out of reality.

So he tries to be surrounded by multiple people at a time.

Tony comes to visit twice after their first little adventure but he brings someone with him each time. 

The first person being Black Widow, the second Dr. Banner. 

As far as distractions and deflections go—both are a genius move on Tony’s part.

It’s all strictly platonic.

By the time the holidays roll around Peter’s got his fantasies (somewhat) under control. 

Pressured by MJ a week or so prior, he finally downloads Tinder one night. Within an hour he has over 75 matches. College is awesome. 

He dates fairly regularly. Or maybe dating isn’t the right word. 

More like fucking. Boys and girls—but mostly guys. 

He likes girls, loves the smell of their hair and how soft their skin is. He loves going down on them, too. Getting them so wet and worked up at the start of the night that by the end of it they’re scratching at the back of his head while he settles comfortably between their quivering thighs. 

There’s something about getting fucked, though.

And he knows about toys, obviously. But a real, warm, pulsing cock—? He can’t buy that at the store. 

At least not the one he wants. 

So while getting laid steadily doesn’t leave him wired, it also isn’t as hot and sexy as he imagined it would be. 

He’s learning a lot, getting a good workout putting his body to use—but sex is pretty pointless if it’s not happening with who he wants it to. 

The experience is excellent and for that he’s grateful. 

But honestly he’s just tired. 

Tony’s flying to LA for the month of December so he invites Peter up to the compound right before thanksgiving. Under Fury’s watch Peter doesn’t get to spend as much time up north as he’d like but the fact that Tony even invited him at all is a pleasant surprise. 

When he arrives for the weekend he’s surprised to find it mostly deserted. 

“Everyone’s got holiday plans,” Tony informs him, somewhat sadly. 

Peter frowns. “But what about—“

“I’ll be with Rhodey’s family in California. Don’t worry about me, kid.” He gives Peter a little smile, though it’s not entirely sincere. 

They settle comfortably in the living room, catching up over mundane topics. Peter catches Tony staring at him a couple of times when he thinks Peter’s too distracted—glancing over his outfit, taking in his appearance. 

Peter’s not an idiot. He’s been working out constantly, building up his strength endurance. He knows how good he looks. He planned it. 

He’s dressed in dark designer jeans, when he got them he asked the sales associate to tailor them right there in the store while he walked down the street and picked up a coffee. He used money from the monthly allowance Tony supplies him. 

Then after that he went to Zara and picked out an olive green V-neck sweater. It hung perfectly off his shoulders, clinging in all the right places. 

Last—he ditched his gray converse for a pair of pitch black Doc Martens. MJ scoffed when he showed up in them the first time. 

“You think since your best friend’s a lesbian you can dress like one now—?”

Peter laughed, delighted. “You’re just mad they look better on me.”

MJ rolled her eyes but she didn’t disagree. 

He bought the entire ensemble for tonight specifically and it seems to be paying off, if the lingering stares are anything to count on. 

They spend a couple of hours down in the lab, followed by dinner and drinks after. 

“You’re in college now, I was practically an alcoholic by your age.”

Peter laughs, taking another sip. “What’s in this?”

Tony sniffs at it, looking off into the distance. “I think a small dash of rubbing alcohol—that’s what you asked for, right?”

Peter giggles. “Correct. That’s my position—I mean poison—of choice.”

He blushes furiously as he takes a quick gulp of his drink, hearing his own words echo loudly in the room. 

“Position?” Tony asks, smirk on his face. 

“Oh don’t start,” Peter replies, feeling silly.

Tony leans back into the couch, closing his eyes. He has a black, long sleeve synthetic top on, tight enough it highlights his muscles deliciously. Peter watches his biceps and tries to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. 

Even dressed down Tony looks like sex. 

“You know what my favorite position is?”

Peter’s mouth dries out as his heart violently lurches. He swallows, loud. 

“What?” He breathes. 

Tony lazily fiddles with the zipper on his black Sahara pants, eyes still closed. 

“I like laying down, with my partner on top—riding me,” he breathes heavily, rubbing himself over his pants. 

Peter wonders if this is a dream. 

Tony continues, voice low and smooth, “See—they think—“ he grasps his dick, hips arching up into it, “they’re in control. But they’re not.”

Peter pictures himself over Tony in his massive bed, knees sliding along the silk sheets as he takes his cock deep inside. His hands curl into fists at his sides. 

“I love watching—waiting—“ he unzips himself and Peter keens, desperate and quiet under his breath. 

Tony pulls his cock out, pink and hard and glistening at the tip. He says as he strokes it, finally opening his eyes, “I love when they give up, thighs aching from trying to find the pleasure only I can give them.”

Peter stands abruptly, heart pounding and cock rising in his briefs. Tony doesn’t even have the audacity to appear alarmed, just looks at him with a hint of a challenge in his eyes. 

“How drunk are you?” Peter quietly asks, hating how out of breath he sounds. 

Tony strokes himself with a sure hand, not even remotely embarrassed or ashamed. “I’m not.”

Peter walks over to him, fueled by a desire so prominent he’s drowning in it. He climbs into his lap, grabbing his face in his hands and kissing him.

Tony kisses back, slow at first, cautious. He breaks away after a few minutes, breathy as he pants, “Sweetheart—“

But Peter won’t allow him to interrupt. There’s an odd, sad sensation bubbling in the pit of his stomach. This feels a lot like a rebound, but to only one present party. 

If this is the only chance he’ll get with Tony, he’s not going to waste it. 

He gets off his lap, sliding into a horizontal position on the expensive leather couch. He reaches for Tony, who doesn’t make him wait. 

He unzips Peter’s jeans, praising them along the way. “You look so fucking good in these, I can’t stand it—“

Peter bites his lip, looking up at him without a word. He’s spent a lot of time undressing himself in the past few months but none of his partners ever meant as much as the one above him. 

He’s nervous as Tony peels his pants off, followed by his sweater. He leaves his black boxer briefs on though, touching him through them. 

“Oh god,” Peter gasps. Tony’s only rubbing at his cock yet he already feels like he’s about to come. 

Tony leans over him, lowering himself and lining up their cocks. When he grinds into Peter, he cries out at the friction. 

Peter wraps his arms around his neck, bringing him down to face level.

He doesn’t know what to say when they make eye contact so he doesn’t say anything at all—

“Baby,” Tony murmurs, pressing his lips to Peter’s bottom lip and keeping them there in a delicate connection. 

“Yes—“ Peter whispers, tightening his arms as Tony presses his cock into the warm, fleshy dip of Peter’s hip, speeding up his thrusts. 

Peter closes his eyes, lifting his upper body slightly so he can whisper in Tony’s ear, “Are you going to come on me?”

“Fuck,” Tony responds, punching an arm into the couch cushion as he rotates his hips. 

“Want you to fuck me,” Peter confesses, biting at the soft, sensitive skin under Tony’s bicep. 

Tony moans, head giving out and landing on Peter’s chest as he continues his mimicry of fucking.

“Want you baby, so bad—“

Peter’s hips thrust up and in, meeting Tony’s for every stoke, and they kiss again—messy and shaky and filthy as their tongues collide in a slick dance. 

Peter can feel himself growing close, senses overloaded by Tony, and Tony’s growing close too—Peter can feel it in how he trembles—

“Sir, Agents Romanov and Barton have just arrived on the outer premises. It appears they intended to surprise you. They’ll be here in less than 10 minutes.”

“W-What?” Tony gasps.

“What the fuck?” Peter breathes heavily, panic flooding his system.

He pushes Tony off him so hard he lands on the floor with a loud thunk. 

“Oh shit, sorry!” He whisper shouts, looking around for his clothes. 

Tony‘s quick though, gathering them in his arms, looking almost as devastated and confused as he did on Titan. 

“Shit Pete, I had no idea. I’m so sorry,” he says urgently, head tilting back, “there’s a bathroom through that hall, please get dressed. I’ll see you back out here, alright?”

“Wait. But, you—“

Tony looks angry now. “Peter, please—just, go. Hurry.”

He ignores the hurt bubbling in his stomach as he grabs his boots and clothes, stumbling out of the room. 

He’s still hard when he reaches the bathroom and he slams the door a little louder than necessary because of it. He’s so aroused he can’t think—can’t focus. He has no idea how Tony’s going to get himself together for Black Widow and Hawkeye. Literally nothing gets past them. 

Peter looks at himself in the mirror, admiring the gorgeous flush snaking across his chest. 

He grabs his cock, needing to finish what Tony started. 

He thinks about what might’ve happened if they weren’t interrupted. He thinks about far it could’ve gone. 

He thinks about Tony’s cock—how firm and warm it was in the crease of his hip. He thinks about how turned on Tony sounded. He thinks about Tony calling him baby—

He shoots off into the sink, gasping like he’s wounded. 

There’s some commotion coming from the down the hall and he does his best to get cleaned up quickly. He hopes Tony was able to make himself presentable. 

When he makes it back into the living room he sees that Clint and Natasha have brought enough food for a village. 

“Hey little spider,” Nat calls with a small sneer, “you hungry?”

Peter glances at Tony, who, miraculously, doesn’t look like he was just about to fuck an 18 year old on his couch. He looks confident, unphased. His hair is slightly askew but nothing too out of the ordinary. 

“Yes please!” Peter calls, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

“Nat and I were thinking we could throw on a movie?”

Peter resists the urge to roll his eyes. How proper PG. There goes his night. “Sure.”

He looks around, wondering where Clint is when he feels a presence behind him. 

If Peter were anyone else he might’ve gotten away with it, but his reflexes are too quick—even quicker than Hawkeye’s. 

“Don’t even try,” Peter laughs, reaching out and up to catch Clint’s arm before it even comes close to touching him. 

“Goddammit kid, I almost had you!”

Peter shrugs, smiling at Nat’s smirk as he moves across the kitchen to pick up a plate.

He shivers involuntarily when he passes by Tony. 

Outside of polite conversation for the sake of appearance, they don’t speak again the rest of the night. 

In the morning, Happy meets him outside the lab, informing Peter that he will be the one taking him back into the city. 

“Boss’s request.”

Peter nearly chokes on his disappointment.

\\\

He repeats the evening over and over in his head, torturing himself into believing it meant more to Tony than it probably did. 

He just has no idea why Tony would mess with him out of everyone if all he intended to get out of him was a good fuck. 

And who’s to say Peter would even be good? For all Tony knew Peter could be a virgin.

So it had to mean something. 

But if it did, then Peter doesn’t know why Tony didn’t come to him that night. After Clint and Natasha went to sleep. After all possibilities of interruption were eliminated. 

He waited, tossing and turning so much that by the time he exhausted himself into a slumber, his alarm was already going off. 

He’d set it extra early to meet Tony in the lab. 

But of course by the time he got down there Tony was already gone. Like a coward.

And Peter knows that’s harsh. He knows Tony’s been through a lot. But he isn’t the only one. 

So, like Titan, and their 7 month separation, Peter adds that night to the growing list of things they Don’t Talk About. 

The fact that there’s even a list at all is so genuinely upsetting Peter cries over it one night. 

Then he snaps out of it. He has to. He has class, his friends, May. He has his therapist. They all help him feel better, even if they have no idea what’s truly got him so down. 

All trauma aside, by the end of his first semester he has a 4.0 and a thriving sex life. Though no one’s gotten him off like he did himself in Tony’s bathroom that night. 

On New Year’s Eve he gets drunk at a party in Hell’s Kitchen with Ned and MJ and makes a monumental mistake. 

He ends up on a random fire escape, phone in hand, and dials Tony. 

They haven’t spoken in weeks and while Peter wants to hold out—thinks it’s fucking ridiculous he’s making the first move—he can’t resist. Especially with his blood drenched in alcohol. 

Tony picks up on the second ring, sounding worried. “Pete?”

“Oh wow. Can’t believe you actually answered.” He doesn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice, filter long gone. If MJ knew what he was doing she’d kill him. 

“Of course I answered. What’s wrong?”

Peter sways against the brick wall, watching as his breath turns to steam in the frigid December air. 

“What’s wrong,” he whispers, pissed off, “is that you—fucking—“

And he must be drunker than he thought because he never curses in front of Tony. In front of anyone, really. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down and gather his thoughts. 

He tries again. “You just. You...”

He hears Tony sigh. And for some reason that crushes him. 

He’s horrified to realize tears are gathering in his eyes. 

“What, baby?” Tony asks so tenderly, so softly, that Peter allows the tears to fall, no longer able to hold back. 

“You abandoned me.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath, followed by a curse Peter doesn’t fully catch. 

“Peter, no, I—“

“No,” Peter interrupts him, heart in his throat, “you don’t get to talk. You touched me—nearly fucked me—and then just bailed.”

Tony doesn’t respond. 

Peter barrels on, brain unable to keep the words falling from his mouth. “And now—I’m stuck here. Alone. In a city I stayed at for—for you—and my aunt. But mostly you. Cause, I need.”

He pauses, biting down on his tongue. He closes his eyes as he admits, “I need you. I need to be close to you.”

“Peter—“

“Do you ever think about Titan?”

Tony doesn’t say anything. But Peter can practically hear his thoughts. He’s probably panicking, or thinking of a quick way to deflect. Peter won’t let him. 

“I think about it. All the time. And even if I wanted to talk to someone, n-no one understands.”

So he’s starting to slur his words now. Good. He didn’t even realize he could get drunk enough to do that. 

For a moment he’s pleased. Then he goes back to being angry. 

“The only person who knows what I went through is you. And you don’t talk to me. You w-won’t talk to me.” He half sneers, half stutters. 

There’s noise behind him, loud for a second then completely quiet. He turns around, silently cursing when he sees MJ has joined him on the escape. 

“Peter,” she whispers, “who did you call?”

“Ugh please...g-go away,” Peter quietly begs. 

“Pete,” Tony says, tone odd, “who’s with you? Are you safe?”

Peter scoffs, changing his demeanor. “It’s just MJ. But how—“ he practically spits his next words, “—decent of you to pretend you c-care about my wellbeing.” He’s violently shivering, teeth chattering in the cold. 

“I’m coming to get you,” Tony tells him, “I’ll be there in the morning.”

But Peter’s too drunk to actually register the words, rolling his eyes. He pulls the phone away from his ear.

“Peter.”

When MJ holds her hand out Peter hands her his phone. She clicks the red END button without a word. 

Then she holds her arms open. 

Peter gratefully collapses into them. 

He rings in the New Year sad and blacked out.

\\\

He wakes to a pain in his side. 

“Ugh what,” he whispers, groggy and weak. 

The pain gets sharper, and it hurts enough to force him up. 

He looks over at MJ, who has her nail digging into his side. 

“MJ—what—“

The sun’s too bright in her bedroom. He falls back into the pillows, shoving his face under one. 

“You need new blinds.”

She pokes him again, “And you need to get up. We have company.”

Someone clears their voice and Peter’s eyes shoot open. 

“Please don’t tell me—“

MJ cuts him off. “It’s exactly who you think it is.”

Peter doesn’t believe her. He curls further into the sheets. They’re so soft and warm. He doesn’t want to come out. 

“Mr. Parker, we don’t have all day.”

And holy fuck, Tony is actually here. 

Peter peeks out from under MJ’s pillow, simultaneously terrified and excited. He barely remembers the phone call from last night, only slightly cringing when he recalls the tears. He’ll angst over it later—right now Tony is here.

And he looks so good. 

MJ kicks at him under the covers, forcing him closer to the edge. 

“Okay, okay,” Peter tells her, sitting up gingerly. 

He glances down his body, noting how he’s only in boxers.

“Um,” he says. 

MJ fills in. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

Tony smirks at her. “Obviously. I assume otherwise you wouldn’t have dropped the pin?”

He holds up his cell phone and also Peter’s.

MJ snaps her fingers. “Right.”

“Hey—“ Peter protests, reaching his hand out.

“Ah, ah,” Tony waves his phone at him, “get yourself together and meet me downstairs. Then you get it back.”

And with that he’s gone.

Peter waits for the slam of the front door down the hall before turning to MJ, who of course happens to look flawless even in the early hour light. 

She has her eyes closed, head cushioned on a sky blue pillow as she mutters, “Peter, not now. Call me later.”

He’s about to protest but a wave of nausea passes over him. 

He clutches his stomach. “Oh god.”

He runs to the bathroom, briefly noting his clothes shoved into a corner, before he vomits into the toilet. 

He hears clapping in the other room, rolling his eyes even as his throat burns. Luckily there’s not too much on his stomach so he finishes up fairly quickly, shocked by how much better he feels after. 

“MJ?” He calls sweetly, albeit a little hoarsely.

She doesn’t even sound phased. “There’s a spare brush under the sink.”

He silently thanks whoever above is watching over him (Ben’s face flashes briefly through his mind) as he quickly works to make himself over—brushing his teeth and washing his face.

By the time he’s cleaned up and dressed he’s rushing out the door, not allowing his nerves to catch up. 

“Love you!” He shouts over his shoulder. 

“Fuck off!” MJ shouts back.

It starts to rain when he makes it down to the street and Tony ushers him into an unbearably sexy Audi A8 just before the first drops touch his skin. 

He surprised there’s no one in the driver’s seat but then remembers who’s picking him up and rolls his eyes.

Elon Musk could never.

He perks up when Tony slides in the back, twisting his thumbs around in his lap as Tony programs an address into a key pad on the back of the seat. 

When he’s finished he sits back, crossing a leg and turning towards Peter. 

“We have a long drive. So would you like to start or should I?”

Peter’s heart races. “We’re going to the compound?”

Tony shrugs. “If you like.”

“Yeah—I—I’m off school for the next two weeks so—“

Tony holds a hand up, “Slow down there. Let’s focus on right now, alright?”

A pink tinge crosses over Peter’s cheeks. “Right. Duh. Sure.”

Tony sighs, looking out the window for a moment before looking at him again. 

“Peter, you’ve...”

He sighs, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Peter wants so badly to say something but this feels too important. For once he keeps his mouth shut. 

Tony tries again. “Peter. You’ve completely captivated me. But this past year back on earth has been the hardest year of my life. And I’ve been spiraling.”

He pauses, pursing his mouth. It’s then Peter realizes he isn’t wearing glasses or sunglasses of any sort. He can see Tony’s eyes so clearly. 

He doesn’t ever want to look away. 

“I won’t bore you with the details. We have years to work through those—well, you do. I’m old.”

Peter fondly rolls his eyes, pushing at Tony’s knee. 

Tony smiles at him, reaching out for his hand. 

Peter allows him to take it. 

Tony examines it as he continues talking. “But Titan? I probably shouldn’t keep avoiding that with you.”

Peter’s heart drops to his stomach. 

Tony squeezes his hand. He takes a deep breath. 

“Peter? Flat out? You died. In my arms.” His breath hitches, only slightly, and if Peter were a normal human he probably wouldn’t have noticed. 

But spidey senses. And all that. 

“And watching as what remained of you floated away—“

Peter’s bottom lip trembles. He barely remembers the pain. What he remembers is the fight. The desperation. The realization in Tony’s eyes as he reached for him and his hand—

“—it was like the sun setting forever.”

A tear slips out of Peter’s eye. He doesn’t try to hide it or wipe it away. It’s a physical manifestation of everything building and swelling inside him. He has to let it out. 

“I know, Mr. Stark.”

Tony looks at him, heartbroken yet hopeful. He reaches up, trailing a finger down his cheek. 

“I know we both felt the hurt. I know we were both in immense pain. And I’m sorry I didn’t talk about it with you. I couldn’t talk about it with anyone.”

Peter nods, jaw tense. “Same.”

Tony laughs, low and self-conscious. “We may be a therapist’s wet dream, kid.”

Peter laughs too, feeling the tension leave his body. “You’re probably not wrong.”

They’re still holding hands and Peter doesn’t want him to let go. He doesn’t say that, but he hopes the tiny squeeze he gives does. 

Tony squeezes back. 

Peter confesses, “I developed...these feelings for you. After Titan. I’d always had a crush. As you know. But it was more after that.”

He clarifies, “It couldn’t not be. Given what we went through.”

Tony make an affirmative noise under his breath, soft and encouraging.

“We experienced this...gigantic thing. And then—and then, it was—“

“Over,” Tony finishes. 

Peter nods enthusiastically. “Exactly. And then you didn’t talk to me after. And Mr. Stark—you—“

Tony looks at him, eyes wide and shining, seemingly waiting with bated breath. 

Peter forces the next words out, needing them to exist somewhere besides his head. 

“You broke my heart.”

He breathes a sigh of relief as the words leave him. It’s the truth. And he’s glad he said it. 

Tony doesn’t say anything for a moment. He doesn’t really react at all. But when he does, he won’t look at Peter, choosing instead to close his eyes. 

“Kid...fuck.”

His voice breaks, and when he opens his eyes they’re glistening. 

“Mr. Stark—“ Peter takes off his seatbelt, lunging over to the other man and climbing into his lap.

Despite the last time he was in this position, Peter couldn’t be further from aroused. He’s aching to comfort Tony, longing to be as close to him as possible. 

“Goddammit Peter,” Tony laughs wetly, looking up at him, “you’re going to get yourself killed. Get off me.”

Peter grins at him, wide and open. “Only if you kiss me first.”

Tony bites his lip, looking up slowly as his arms circle around Peter’s back. 

“I can do that.”

He stops right before their lips touch though. “I just need you to know how sorry I am. About everything. About it all.”

“I know,” Peter replies, pressing his lips featherlight to Tony’s, “and it’s okay. It wasn’t, for awhile.”

He runs the tip of his nose along Tony’s cheekbone, not stopping until his mouth reaches Tony’s ear.

“But it is now. It’s going to be okay.”

He pulls back but Tony pushes up—and their lips finally collide in a sweet kiss. 

It’s getting darker outside but inside the car it's warm and safe. 

And all the dreams Peter’s had of Tony over the last year fade away as he grasps him tight, leaving fantasy behind.

**Author's Note:**

> oh, HI. i've returned from my mini-hiatus with this. i'm sorry? my writer side wanted to make this MUCH much longer but my ADD side wouldn't let me focus long enough. so here's what came from that unfortunate combination. slam that comment button below, lemme know what ya thought! as always, TYVM for reading


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